Climbing the Ranks BrendanEthan
by Busman's Holiday
Summary: DC Ethan Scott's POV. Ethan's a baby faced pretty boy wanting to be taken seriously as a copper. Somehow he's crying out to be shipped with Brendan. It's an acquired taste I know. Ethan questions Brendan about Warren and gets more than he expected.


**Climbing the Ranks**

I'd seen so many men sit opposite with their swaggering confidence and disregard for the police, but none like this guy. Brendan Brady. He chewed gum like every movement of his jaw was clockwork, turning the cogs in his mind. He was at ease, not the kind I normally experienced. Usually with the right tone and questions he'd be crumbling and stuttering for the right words, having me stare down at him or taken away to a cell, wired and aggressive. He was neither of these. I scratched around my brain trying to remember some criminal psych from my training.

"And why would _I_ have any idea where Foxy has gone, hmm?"

Brendan and his nicknames. I'm sure we'd all have a laugh about his nicknames if we weren't on the hunt for a wanted man.

"Mr Brady I don't think you really appreciate the gravity of this situation," I told him, watching as he reclined into the chair – chairs I didn't even think could be lounged on in such away – with one leg folded with his foot on his knee. I couldn't help but be surprised that a man like him would try and get away with trousers as tight as those.

"Oh I appreciate it alright," he said with a wide smile. He really was the wolf in Little Red Riding Hood – what big teeth he had. He rubbed his thighs. "You need my help to find this bad, _bad,_ man."

He made the skin at my collar pink. I wasn't sure what he was trying to get out of this conversation besides humiliating me.

I kept my questions strictly to the point. "When was the last time you saw Mr Fox?"

Brendan huffed, rolled his tongue up to the ceiling of his mouth. "Hmm, that is a toughie!"

Patience diminishing, I slammed my hand on the desk in front of him. "It's a simple question Mr Brady. When did you last see him?"

Brendan stared right at me, into me almost. I was sure his eyes were blue but there was this dark glaze to them, like he'd looked too long into a fire.

"Pressure getting to you Work Experience?" he teased. He flexed his hand near mine on the desk.

Resisting the urge to let his words get to me, I perched on the desk. He looked up with an amused smirk and I decided to let him take control of the conversation as that was obviously the route he wanted.

"If you want an easy ride you've come to the wrong fella pretty-boy," he began. I blinked at his use of nickname - that was new. "Now you could run along, find one of the grownups to help you weasel it out of me or you could conjure up a few ways of making me talk yourself I'm sure….or, there is a third option,"

I swallowed. His voice seemed to take on a new quality altogether, like a low hum at the back of his throat. His gaze lingered on my face, on my lips. The authority in his voice gave me an unexpected thrill. It was a power that I could never command.

"Which is?" I asked, trying to keep my voice measured and loose the bubbling tension within me.

"Or…" Brendan began, slowly sliding himself out of the chair and standing up in front of me, "You can give me what I want and I can give you _exactly_ what you're after,"

His proximity was closer than I would ever let anyone else, but he had me transfixed. I couldn't tell what it was making me light headed, the way he was closing in on me or that heady testosterone and aftershave flooding my nostrils. He moved like a snake, swaying hips and searching eyes.

"And what's that?" I bluffed. I saw the silver of the cross around his neck glint somewhere in the nest of his chest hair, exposed by his half buttoned shirt.

"DC Scott," he said, separating from me and pacing the room like he was the cop and I were his suspect, "I didn't think you would make a deal with someone linked with a criminal,"

"Arrangements can be made," I said, "If you can help us,"

Brendan approached me again, nodding his head and pouting his lips. He made twitching movements with his fingers as he spoke, I guessed it was some kind of tic.

"Help the police or help _you_?" he asked, stopping in front of me.

"I am the police,"

At this he laughed manically and I stood, although my stature was an immediate disadvantage when I realised he towered above me.

"Ethan," he started, hand on my shoulder, "Can I call you Ethan? Good." He patted me. "Let's get things straight. You're a copper, yeah? I know that, but let's face it, you ain't exactly Poirot are ya? Now if you wanna move up the ranks," at this he did a spider-up-a-drainpipe movement with his fingers up my chest, "then you're gonna need my help." He tapped my cheek.

Brendan took my face in his hands and made me nod my head.

"So let's start again," he said, "What exactly can you do for me Ethan?"

And that's when it all went a bit hazy.

_I was sure he purposefully meant to rub his thigh against my groin. I wasn't so sure about the sudden electric spark that made my cock throb and made everything feel that little bit tighter. He was smiling devilishly, his mouth red and sly and he moved in, trapping me against the interrogation table. My palms were sweaty for the first time in a long time and yes – that was definitely his hand between my legs. I couldn't be sure, but I was pretty positive my eyes rolled back into my skull and I was wishing (not for the first time) that this was some sort of approval, an initiation of sorts._

_He didn't say much, sort of growled and hissed and hummed – all the noises I predicted really. His eyes were wider and expectant and every shaking circle my mouth made, he seemed to copy, deliciously teasing my weakness. I wasn't sure if he was the kissing type, but when he thrust his hand down the waistband of my trousers I wasn't sure what else to do. Impulses took over. I so rarely got to act on anything but my head._

_My hands were on him, roughly grabbing the material of his shirt but not really knowing what to do. His kissing was impatient, not really building up to anything, full speed from the starting line. All sucking and licking and pressing his nose into my cheek. I could hear him unbuckle and when I began to wonder whether he was as hard as I was, any power I was clinging to dissolved from me. _

_He broke away from me and I caught a glimpse of myself in the two way mirror, flushed and agape and my eyes wide and boyish. His smile was sort of twisted into a half snarl. _

"_Show me what you can do Ethan Scott," he said, his tongue lengthening the syllables in my name as a come on. He held his cock in his hand with an arrogant pride and nodded for me to get down. _

_Even if he hadn't been so blatant I would have got on my knees of my own accord. None of my training had mentioned how easy it was to fall into the trap, to want to be one of them, to find the confidence and the murky pasts so alluring. It should have been more obvious to me before, but danger was my biggest turn on. That's why the thought of the sarge walking in any moment made sucking him off an even bigger thrill. _

"_Perks of the job eh?" Brendan teased as I worked my tongue over the head of his cock. I could hate him for his smugness but I envied it. _

_His hand was on the back of my head, making sure I did it properly and ensuring he had a say. He was oddly silent, it was only his breathing that changed, loud and heavy. It was control again, not want to show any weakness, this was little more than a business transaction. One that was making me come._

_When I'd swallowed and wiped my mouth and he'd straightened out his shirt and belt, he looked at me quizzically. He wiped one of my lips with his thumb._

"_So you want me to talk?" he said, leering at me as he propped himself up on the back of the chair._

My elbow slipped off the table and my head dropped, crashing me awake.

I rubbed my hands across my face, my focus blurring and realigning until I saw my notes in front of me and a black and white picture of Brendan Brady, slim and dressed in dark colours. I found myself growing hotter as thoughts and visions came flooding back to me.

My answerphone bleeped and it was a message telling me to make sure I was ready to grill Mr Brady in the morning. An open folder I was holding fell from my hands and I scrambled to pick up all the loose paper.

Fuck.

I couldn't question him after what had just definitely been a wet dream.

Liberty walked through from the kitchen, hair wet from a bath.

"Are you alright babe?" she asked.

I couldn't be sure I was even awake now.

"I'm just going to take a shower," I said, passing her without so much as a peck.

The shower needed to be cold. Very cold.


End file.
